


Are You Calling Me A Sinner?

by citrusfriend



Series: Super String Theory [1]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe - Superheroes/Superpowers, Autistic Fukanaga, Autistic Kageyama Tobio, Autistic Tsukishima Kei, Autistic Ushijima, Character Death, Deaf Hinata, Everyone is Queer, Gen, Genderfluid Yamaguchi, Moral Dilemmas, Nonbinary Fukanaga, Nonbinary Oikawa, Nonbinary Terushima, Nonbinary Tsukishima, Nonbinary kenma, Nonverbal Fukanaga, Previous Abuse, Sensory Overload, Slow Burn, Trans Alisa, Trans Semi, Trans Shibayama, Violence, everyone has powers, mostly everyone is arospec, nonbinary Hanamaki, nonbinary kuroo, sorry yaku, trans akaashi, trans kyoutani, trans yaku
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-04-04
Updated: 2018-05-09
Packaged: 2019-04-18 09:08:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 9,015
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14209842
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/citrusfriend/pseuds/citrusfriend
Summary: "I'm sorry. I'm sorry, my brother. Even if I try to hide it or conceal it, it can't be erased. Are you calling me a sinner? What more do I have to say?" -Kim Taehyung (translated)Morisuke was content handling the mountains of paperwork that came with being a manager. It was long, thankless work, but he was content. He didn't want to be a hero.But he never wanted to become a villain instead.





	1. Chapter One

**Author's Note:**

> How many fics CAN i start? Too many. So many fics guys. I'm starting school in two days why am i doing this to myself
> 
> Anyway, this is a Lev and Yaku centric fic, but it is not YakuLev! I'm too aro to write romance. Also, this'll start out really light-hearted, but it's gonna get dark. Be prepared.
> 
> In this world, everyone has powers. The vigilantes have replaced traditional police. Just thought I'd say that now in case it isn't clear.

    After the Kuroo Incident from three years ago, Morisuke was convinced that he would never be assigned a greenie again. And yet here he was, sitting at his cold desk and staring at the document that officially designating Haiba Lev as his client. Pressing the palms of his hands against his eyes, Morisuke heaved a Great Sigh. Shibayama patted his back sympathetically. _No one_ likes greenies.

    Nekoma Management Firm was one of the most flourishing vigilante firms in east Asia. Most of the time, Morisuke was grateful that he had been hired by them. Today though, he was seriously debating if it was worth quitting just to avoid whoever the fuck Haiba Lev was.

    It was nothing personal. He didn’t care about Haiba at all. But Morisuke was a manager for superpowered vigilantes, not a _babysitter_ , damn it. Greenies--new vigilantes--were the bane of every manager’s existence in this business. They all had such an inflated sense of _justice_ and never cared about how much _goddamn paperwork_ they caused in their quest to save their world--or their ego. Morisuke would rather let Japan be taken over by some deranged dictator than have to deal with insurance companies hounding his ass about some careless hero who threw that would-be dictator into a building.

    Seasoned vigilantes were better. Seasoned vigilantes had learned to fear their managers more than criminals. Over the years, they had learned how to prevent excessive collateral damage. But greenies, ohh _no_ . They throw cars left and right and throw such a _hissy fit_ when they have to take responsibility for it. And they always hound their managers for new jobs, new upgrades, events with the press… Idiots, the lot of them.

    Morisuke sat back in his shitty desk chair and let his hands drop from his face. He knew he was the logical choice for Haiba; out of all of the managers in his division, he had the least duties at the moment--other than Shibayama, but she had only become a manager two months ago. Saeko and Tora were handfuls, sure, but Morisuke was still capable of taking another client. Morisuke shook his head and set his shoulders. He was given the assignment; he would have to deal with it. Nothing Haiba could do would be worse than the Kuroo Incident, after all. With this newfound determination, he opened Haiba Lev’s file.

_Haiba Lev, active duty_

_Age 24_

_Male; he/him/his pronouns_

_Powers: corprikinesis (anatomy manipulation)_

_Current capability level: 5_

_Fighting experience: none_

_Previous occupation: online translator (Japanese and Russian)_

_Vigilante relative(s): Haiba Alisa (sister)_

_Physical and mental condition: fit for duty; ADHD_

_Assignment: Nekoma Management Firm, Central Japan Division_

_Manager: Yaku Morisuke_

_Previous assignment(s) and/or manager(s): none_

    There was other information, such as family history, address, fitness test results, and education level, but Morisuke only skimmed it. Other than Haiba’s inexperience, Morisuke doubted he’d have much trouble with him.

_Thud._

    Morisuke blinked away from the file in his hands. What-?

_Thud. Thud. Thud._

    “You’ll make your headache worse like that, Kenma,” Sakusa droned from his desk across from Morisuke.

    Morisuke turned to his right to see dirty blond hair spread across Kenma’s desk. The head it was attached to lifted itself up and-- _thud. Thud._

 _Same,_ Morisuke thought.

    “Kuroo or Shouyou?” he asked, one eyebrow raised in bemusement. A muffled groan was the only response, but Morisuke nodded knowingly. “Both, then.” A longer groan. Smirking, Morisuke turned back to his computer and switched it on. “What’d they do?”

    Aside from the hum of computers and the click of keyboards, the room was silent for a few minutes before Kenma answered, their voice still muffled by wood. “They’re in Hokkaido.” Morisuke’s hands froze over the keyboard and he slowly faced Kenma, eyes wide.

    Sakusa was the one to speak this time, also staring at Kenma. “They’re _what?_ ”

    “Kuroo and Shouyou were on a chase and now they’re in Hokkaido,” Kenma said, voice monotone.

 _Oh, god._ Managers were responsible for the legalities involved in vigilante work--although why it was called _vigilante work,_ Morisuke didn’t know; doesn’t the management system go against the definition of a vigilante?--and one of their most basic jobs was assigning which areas the vigilantes were to operate in. They were the central division, which included the Tohoku, Chubu, and Kanto regions, so if Kuroo and Hinata were in _Hokkaido..._

    “I’ll go get you coffee,” Shibayama announced, getting up from her desk.

    “I have headache medicine,” Morisuke offered.

    Kenma finally lifted their head, long hair falling over their face. “Do you have _bleach?_ ”

 _Same,_ Morisuke thought. He stared at Kenma’s pale face--or what he could see through the tangle of blond hair--a little longer before opening his desk drawer. “I’m getting you headache medicine.”

    “Please tell me they didn’t drag Kageyama along,” Sakusa ground out.

    Morisuke turned back to Kenma, pills in his palm. Kenma swallowed them dry and shrugged. “I’ll ask.”

    They put on their ever-present black sunglasses and began typing on their phone with gloved hands. Shibayama returned with coffee, which she gave Kenma wordlessly. When Morisuke turned towards his computer, he blinked in surprise at how intensely Sakusa was glowering at Kenma’s phone and then shrugged. Sakusa was always intense, especially with his clients. Morisuke opened an email from Naoi, the Assessment Director, stating that Haiba would come to the office on Tuesday, which was in--Morisuke checked his phone--two days.

    Morisuke paused. “Jesus Christ, it’s Sunday. Why am I at work on a Sunday?”

    Shibayama froze halfway into her seat. “It’s Sunday already?”

    Morisuke stared vacantly at his screen. “I’m at work at nine AM on a Sunday.”

    “Tobio is also in Hokkaido,” Kenma announced, typing ferociously. Sakusa grabbed a chemical wipe from a drawer in his desk and scrubbed down his desk. When he had cleaned the entire surface, his head hit the desk.

_Thunk. Thunk. Thunk._

    Kenma’s face scrunched beneath their dark glasses and face mask, but Morisuke wasn’t sure if it was due to the situation or the smell of the chemicals. “Is Ushijima still the head manager of the Hokkaido Division?”

    Sakusa lifted his head with a sigh, curly black hair in mild disarray and his face mask crooked. “No, he got promoted to Crisis. It’s Oikawa now.”

    Kenma’s face twisted even more and they started typing harder. “Oikawa’s gonna be an ass about this just because it’s Tobio.”

    Sakusa wiped down his desk again. “Any chance that he wasn’t seen?”

    A sigh. “You know there isn’t. I’m trying to keep Kuroo from making things worse right now.”

    Morisuke covered his face with his hands. “It’s only _Sunday.”_

    Sakusa threw a pencil at him. “At least you don’t have to argue with Oikawa.”

    Morisuke lifted his face just enough to affix Sakusa with a steady glare. “I have a greenie,” he countered and threw the pencil back.

    “I have Kageyama, Terushima, _and_ Akane.” The pencil bounced off Morisuke’s chest and onto his lap.

    “And I have no patience for your dick-measuring contest,” Kenma snapped, dropping their phone into their lap. “Kiyoomi, since you’re head manager, can you initiate communication with Oikawa? I’ll handle damage control.”

    Sakusa adjusted his face mask and nodded. “Email me the information you have.”

    Morisuke grabbed the pencil from his lap. “I’m keeping this,” he announced pointedly.

    “Sure, just keep your _client_ this time, too,” Sakusa grumbled, fingers not pausing on the keyboard.

    Morisuke threw a pen from his desk at him to make a point, but instantly regretted it. That was a good pen.

    “A-Anyway,” Shibayama interjected, “Yaku, who’s your greenie?”

    Morisuke opened an email from Saeko, only distantly paying attention to Shibayama. “Haiba Lev. His sister’s your client, right?”

    “Oh, yeah!” Shibayama’s voice went a bit higher in surprise. “Alisa said her brother was applying here.”

    Morisuke frowned. Saeko wanted another job. “You ever met him?” he asked distractedly. Why did Saeko want another job? She was supposed to be tracking a rogue aquakinetic. If she decided to let _another_ one go, Morisuke swears he’d have to start taking them in himself just to avoid having to reassign it.

    “No, I’ve only seen pictures. He’s hot, though.”

    Morisuke snorted. “Maybe then he can charm the criminals into jail.”

    Shibayama grinned and opened her mouth to respond, but Sakusa shushed her. “I’m about to call Oikawa.”

    “Praying for you.”  


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Look at me, updating already. You might mistake me for someone who actually does shit.  
> This chapter is primarily world-building tbh. This fic will probably be somewhat slow-burn for a little while, sorry.  
> I'm also really wanting to make some spinoff fics. As I said, this is a Yaku centric fic, but I have so many backstories and power dynamics that I have planned and idk if I can include all of them in here. Lmk if any of you are interested in that

Morisuke was distressed. Fuck that, he was in the middle of a crisis because  _ how is it possible for another human to be this tall?! _

__ Now, Morisuke was accustomed to being the shortest man in the room. Hell, Sakusa was a full 24 centimeters taller than him. But Haiba Lev had to be at least 194 and Morisuke was  _ very distressed. _

The pettier part of him wondered if Haiba was using his body manipulation to make him taller, but he disregarded it. His sister was tall as well, he knew.

So he tried to ignore the instant flare of hatred and jealousy he felt at Haiba’s appearance--normally, Morisuke reassured himself with “they can’t control their height more than you can,” but Haiba  _ could _ \--and stood to greet Haiba as he entered the room.

“Whoa, you’re super tiny!” Haiba exclaimed, bounding over to the table.

Morisuke’s brow twitched. He wondered if Naoi would be upset if he smacked Haiba on his first day. Probably. So he smiled through his teeth and held out his hand. “Yaku Morisuke, your manager.”

Haiba reached his noodle arms across the table and shook his hand enthusiastically. “I’m Haiba Lev! I’m excited to be here.” His smile was wide enough to look painful, yet somehow still looked genuine.

“Please sit,” Morisuke said, gesturing at the chair on the other side of the table. They were in the only private room in the office. It was normally used by Kenma when they needed to be isolated--which, with their extremely enhanced senses, was quite frequently. Today, though, it was used for privacy in which Morisuke could discuss his expectations with his new client.

The height difference was too large, even was they were sitting. It bothered him. Objectively, he could understand Shibayama’s claim that Haiba was attractive, with straight silver hair falling over his forehead and sparkling green eyes. But he was tall and a greenie and Morisuke hated him.

Morisuke sat straight in his chair, but that was the only outward sign that he was tense. Despite what happened during the Kuroo Incident, he  _ did  _ know how to be professional. “So, Haiba-”

“Ah, just call me Lev!” Haiba interjected with a small laugh. He scratched the back of his neck absently. “I lived in Russia as a kid and the whole surname thing is still weird to me.”

Morisuke blinked in surprise. He wasn’t uptight about given name usage, but even for him, that was a fast switch. As such, he didn’t offer Lev the same privilege. “Ah, alright then, Lev. I’m sure you know what your job as a vigilante entails, but some things differ from manager to manager,” he began.

Lev nodded with more vigor than Morisuke was used to. His left hand was fiddling with a beaded bracelet on his right wrist. “Alisa mentioned that a little when she switched over to Shibayama-san. She’s so different from Kozume-san!”

His lip twitched upward a bit, but that was his only acknowledgement of Lev’s words. Morisuke slid one of the folders in front of him over to Lev. “This has all of the information we are about to go over in it, so look over it as many times as you need. It also has all of my contact information.” Lev’s file had said he was ADHD and while Morisuke had yet to learn what that entailed for Lev specifically, he figured that both written and oral instructions would be best.

Lev opened the folder and ‘ahh’ed happily. “You even color-coordinated it!” Lev’s head jerked up suddenly and he smiled with so much genuine gratitude that Morisuke felt disoriented. “Thank you!”

Morisuke rubbed the back of his head, surprised. “It’s nothing,” he mumbled before clearing his throat and returning to his professional air. “The first page is just a map of the boundaries for each of Nekoma’s divisions. We’re Central, so we’re the green area there,” he gestured at the paper before continuing. “Unless I instruct you otherwise, do  _ not  _ leave that area when you’re on a job. If a criminal goes into another region, let me know immediately. There’s a tracker on your suit, which I’ll give you in a moment, so I’ll normally have the division mobilized by then. If I don’t…” Morisuke grimaced. “Bringing a job into another division is a legal debate and more paperwork than any human should see in their life.” Morisuke shuddered, knowing how busy Kenma and Sakusa have been recently.

Since Lev was still nodding intently, Morisuke continued. “You’re classified as a Five right now, so you’ll probably have a lot of small jobs on your own. As you know, we classify every adult, so if I’m sending you against someone who’s a Five or higher, I’ll send you with one of my other clients.”

Lev tilted his head curiously. “Who’re they?”

Morisuke jerked his chin towards the folder. “Second page.” Another grin overtook Lev’s face and he turned the page to study the faces of Morisuke’s two other clients. “That’s Tanaka Saeko,” he said, referring to the woman with dyed blonde hair cut into a bob. “She’s also a Five. And the other one is Yamamoto Taketora, a Four.” He pointed to the man with a menacing grin and a blonde mohawk. “They’re both pretty boisterous, but,” Morisuke eyed the man in from of him, with his bright smile and bouncing leg, “I think you’ll get along just fine.”

Lev’s eyes were scanning the pictures and the brief information underneath them like he was trying to memorize their every feature.

“Saeko is an illusionist and Tora is a pyrokinetic. I’ll probably send you with one of them for your first few jobs, just to help you get into the swing of things. They may be a level lower than you, but,” Morisuke fixed him with a stern look, “they are still significantly more experienced than you. Respect them.”

After another few seconds of scrutiny, Lev straightened and stared at Morisuke with heavy intensity. If Morisuke was anyone else, he probably would have been thrown off, but he had endured four years with dark stares from Sakusa; the only people who could intimidate him anymore were Tendou and Ushijima.

“The rest of the papers are mainly maps and reiterations of all of the legal protocol you went through when you applied,” Morisuke said, trying to sound at ease. He never liked talking this much. “But now, here’s your uniform.” Morisuke leaned down to grab the plastic bag from his messenger bag and nearly missed the way Lev jumped with excitement. The table started to shake from the force of Lev’s leg and Morisuke was grateful they were inside without a fan. If there were any wind in the room, he’d be able to feel the boy’s--he refused to think of him as a man--shaking in the air because of his own powers.

Lev’s anticipation as he grabbed the plastic-wrapped uniform was almost palpable and Morisuke stifled a smile. Every vigilante he’d ever been assigned were overjoyed when they got their uniform, but Morisuke still didn’t fully understand why. They were all black, aside from the red Nekoma symbol on the left bicep, and were made of a specially-made fabric that allowed for movement while providing some protection from minor injuries. There was a belt for a single gun that most vigilantes never used and sturdy boots that were in a separate bag that Morisuke gave him then. Lev’s suit was sleeveless to allow him to modify his body more freely, but that was the only individualisation he had. Some, like Shouyou’s and Alisa’s, were more specialised for their powers, but there wasn’t much Nekoma could do for Lev. Especially before he proved himself to be a valuable employee.

Lev didn’t seem to mind the simplicity, though. He held it to his chest as if his was something precious and ducked his head into a quick bow. “Thank you very much!”

Again, Morisuke was surprised by how genuine he seemed. “Of course. Now, do you have any questions?”

“I do, actually!” Lev’s bright gaze somehow sharpened a bit. “Is it true that one of the vigilantes here is going to be transferred to the Crisis Division?” he asked with surprisingly seriousness.

This time, Morisuke couldn’t stop a small grin. Nekoma had a Crisis Division comprised of their five best vigilantes, and ever since one of their members been killed, there was rampant gossip about who would replace her. “It won’t be you, if that’s what you’re asking.”

Lev wasn’t deterred in the slightest. “So it  _ is  _ one of the vigilantes from this division!”

Morisuke just rolled his eyes. “I haven’t been contacted about it.” It wasn’t a lie, even if he did know who had been. “Any  _ relevant  _ questions?”

“What will we do about press and stuff? Do I get paparazzi?” He sounded far too excited about the possibility.

Morisuke had been waiting for this question. He had met vigilantes who didn’t care for publicity--Fukanaga, Shimizu, Kageyama, even Kuroo, surprisingly--but Lev was definitely the type to enjoy attention. And to attract it.

“You may get interviewed at events and things about being hired, but until you get a high-publicity job, you’ll probably be left alone.” Lev looked a bit disappointed. Morisuke was not. Dealing with paparazzi--or worse a  _ scandal _ \--was a nightmare. Damn stupid Saeko and her stupid fanclub. Lev opened his now-pouting mouth, but Morisuke quickly added, “Before you ask, no, you don’t get any press conferences either.”

The paparazzi would probably begin within a year, with how vibrant and charismatic Lev seems to be, but Nekoma has a policy against letting any vigilante conduct their own press conferences until they have been with them for five years. And even then, some of the more brash vigilantes were required to have their managers speak for them. Again, Morisuke was reminded of Saeko.

Vigilantes are told about the rules regarding press conferences during the registration process, but most of them ask anyway, as if managers could actually get away with bending the rules if they wanted to. Idiots.

Lev’s face was twisted in thought, though if he was thinking of a new question or disappointed, Morisuke couldn’t tell. But then it cleared out into bright curiosity. “They said that you’ll contact me for jobs, but that in between them I’ll have regular hours with Civilian Security. What if I have you give me a job while I’m working with them?” Lev inquired. One of his hands raised to tap at his temple.

Morisuke nodded his approval at the question. “Nekoma Civilian Security has two jobs,” he explained. “When vigilantes are on a job, CS evacuates people if necessary and blockades the area. They are also in charge of handling criminals who classify under a Two. Petty crime, really. That’s what you’ll be helping with.” Morisuke snickered at Lev’s disgust. “It sounds boring, but it’s important. Every vigilante at Nekoma works with a CS unit, but in terms of time commitment, it’s about the same as a part time job.”

After eying Lev to make sure he was still listening, Morisuke flipped open another folder and pulled out another piece of paper. He hadn’t included it in Lev’s folder because he was curious as to whether or not he would ask about it. “This has the information on the unit you’ll be with,” he explained before handing it to Lev. The hand that had been tapping at his head took it and then promptly began tapping on the table. “You’ll meet with Ukai Keishin about your specific duties and schedule. Once you get your schedule, send it to me. I’ll try to arrange things around it, but jobs can’t always wait. Just tell Ukai-san and he’ll let you go.” Morisuke waited a bit so Lev could process the information. When he lifted his head from the paper a minute or so later, Morisuke took it as his cue to continue speaking. “I will also be contacting Ukai when I assign you something, so don’t try to play hookie or anything.” Tora had tried that in his first week. Morisuke was not amused.

Lev nodded dutifully.

Morisuke raised an eyebrow. Something told him that Lev hadn’t fully processed everything he had said. “Any other questions? I have time.” He tried to make his voice softer to assure the boy that he wouldn’t be upset if Lev needed reiteration, but being soothing was never his strong suit. He was better at aggressive mother henning.

Lev smiled in equal brightness to his others. “Nope! I don’t think so.”

Morisuke’s eye twitched. He wasn’t sure how, but he knew Lev needed  _ something _ . He changed tack. “Your file said you have ADHD.” Morisuke ignored Lev’s slight flinch. “Is there anything I should do differently than I have?” He had already decided that he wouldn’t tell Lev about the extra effort Morisuke had put in to the papers. He knew through experience that people who were different hated to have that difference inconvenience others.

Lev looked surprised, but he still shook his head. “No, the papers are already a big help,” he assured.

Despite the large portion of him that wanted to shake the truth out of Lev, Morisuke just shrugged. It was probably too early for him to reveal his sixth sense for distress and obsessive mothering.

He wondered if it would be too stalkerish to contact his sister and ask her what accommodations Lev needed.


	3. Chapter Three

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Right, so Imma be real and say that I don't know jackshit about Japan. I've never been and never known anyone who has. So if any of this doesn't make sense... Well, this is an alternate universe, so maybe Japan is fucked up or something? I literally just googled what the prefectures and regions were and that's all of the research I did.
> 
> Also, many thanks to Amelie for being my beta!!

Morisuke pursed his lips thoughtfully. Lev had been an official Nekoma employee for five days now, so he knew he would need to give the boy his first job as a vigilante. Although it wasn’t an official rule, most managers allowed greenies to adjust to assisting their CS unit for around a week before assigning a job. Sooner than that, and the vigilante could get overwhelmed, but any longer and they would start getting antsy. So Morisuke had been scrolling through the options, but he was still left with the same conundrum.

Morisuke didn’t know what Lev was capable of. Sure, he knew he was a Five, which was better than most greenies, and he knew that he could manipulate his body into becoming whatever he wanted, so long as he had seen it. He knew that Lev preferred not to transform his hand into a gun because the bullets would be coming from his body and he’d lose mass. But when it came to his critical thinking during combat, Morisuke was clueless.

It was easier with Tora and Saeko. He knew their idiosyncrasies during jobs better than they did. He knew how to cater to their strengths and when to leave a job to another manager’s vigilantes instead. He knew them. Lev, on the other hand...

Sighing, he decided to stop speculating. He’d learn how to read Lev like he had with his other clients, but until then, he wouldn’t push it. He clicked on a file that he had been planning on assigning to Tora and Saeko.

The job was to arrest a Five, a technopath named Futakuchi Kenji. He was a hitman, primarily hired by power-hungry business men. Although there wasn’t any confirmation of where his residence was exactly, it was at least narrowed to east Tokyo. Saeko would be able to find him with her connections, Morisuke knew. But she was a liability when it came to new clients, due to the ways she  _ got  _ those connections in the first place.

Saeko was a Five as well, but not because of skill. She had been a vigilante at Nekoma for ten years now, and that experience was what tipped her number up from a Four. But she also… didn’t fit into the typical hero archetype. She became a vigilante because she genuinely enjoyed the conflict that came with the job, not for any deluded sense of justice. Ordinarily, Morisuke preferred that. Clients like that were far less likely to develop a god complex. But she also had the grating tendency to let criminals go if she respected them or their intentions.

Morally, Morisuke couldn’t care less, so long as their crimes didn’t involve murder or trafficking. He had no intrinsic, infallible loyalty to the law; he knew there were times when rules had to be broken. But there was so much goddamn  _ paperwork  _ when a vigilante failed to complete a job, especially without any viable reason. Sure, sometimes Morisuke could understand--or even sympathize with-- the motive, but that sure as hell didn’t mean it was worth the extra work on his part.

Saeko didn’t do it often enough for her to be fired, of course, but she carried the attitude with her and had no problem with expressing it to impressionable youth. Which was why Morisuke would rather carve out an eye before letting her on a job with Lev, at least until the boy was more secure.

So he was left with Tora, who definitely couldn’t find Futakuchi Kenji in Tokyo alone. Morisuke supposed he could borrow a vigilante from another manager--Kenma and Sakusa did so often with each other, since both they and their clients worked well together--but he would rather let Lev work with one of his own first. They would be the ones that he would be on jobs with the most, after all, and it was best that vigilantes in the same company develop a sense of camaraderie to avoid unfriendly rivalries.

The office door opened, pulling Morisuke out of his thoughts. It wasn’t uncommon for people to come in and out, whether it was managers from the Inactive Division using their printer or vigilantes coming to bother their manager in person, but Morisuke could sense that something was wrong. Damn his parental instinct.

Looking up, Morisuke internally sighed. It was Sakusa, and, if the gloves on his hands was any indication, he was not doing well. Morisuke eyed him as he sat at his desk across from Morisuke, but Sakusa didn’t seem to notice. This time, Morisuke really did sigh. It was so much easier when people actually told him what was wrong. But Sakusa wouldn’t, he never did, so Morisuke evaluated the man.

His curly black hair lay perfectly, which meant Sakusa’s OCD was worse today. He hated the way gel felt in his hair--how did Morisuke even  _ know  _ that?--so if he bothered to use it, then he must have felt more compelled than usual. The black face mask was normal since he always wore it, but he didn’t wear gloves often. Said gloved hands were scrubbing down the desk with a chemical wipe, per the usual--Kenma always arrived at the office later to avoid the smell of the chemicals--and maneuvering papers and pens out of the way and placing them down perfectly adjacent to each other, which was significantly less common, all without Sakusa so much as glancing up from the document he was reading.

It was definitely a bad OCD day. Morisuke grimaced. He could never actually do anything to help him on days like this. If it was anyone else, Morisuke would at least talk to someone they were close to so they could help, but this was Sakusa; the only person Morisuke had ever known him to get attached to had been Komori… He shook the thought away. No use lingering on the dead, after all.

Morisuke returned to the file on his computer. He still had to decide on what to do with Lev, even if a part of him was screaming at him to somehow help Sakusa. Fuck compassion, honestly.

Futakuchi Kenji definitely seemed to be the most ideal job, if not for the unfortunate lack of information on his location. Morisuke could solve this himself, though. Tokyo wasn’t too long a commute from Gunma, especially ever since Nekoma struck a business deal with Aoba Johsai Railway a few years ago. Aoba Johsai was pretentious and expensive, but it was  _ fast _ , so although Morisuke disdained the inherent classism the company enforced with the cost, he appreciated that Nekoma employees could use them for free when on a job.

With a slight grimace, Morisuke selected the job and assigned it to Tora and Lev in the database. He also added that he would accompany them.

While it wasn’t banned, it wasn’t common practice for a manager to join vigilantes on jobs. Vigilantes were required to be a Three or higher, but managers were not; in fact, many only had mundane utility powers and couldn’t defend themselves. Morisuke, however, was a Four. He had a variation of wind manipulation and, given enough time and a small enough area, he would be able to find Futakuchi Kenji. Or rather, the winds would find him for Morisuke.

As he began his message to Tora and Lev, he hoped that Lev wouldn’t start expecting Morisuke to help with all of his jobs.

\-------------

Morisuke didn’t ride on Aoba Johsai often, so he was surprised at how few people were at the station. He was accustomed to people pressing against him from all sides in a rush to make their train, but there were only about two dozen business men loitering in the station. He had seen Terushima on his way in, but they were taking a call and seemed uncharacteristically serious, so they had only exchanged nods when Morisuke passed them.

Morisuke sat on the bench with a soft sigh. He felt out of place in his business casual, surrounded by people who wore clothes that probably cost more than his rent. A familiar voice in the back of his head nagged him about how he didn’t pass, that they all knew he was trans, but he pushed it down. If he didn’t pass by now, there wasn’t much he could do about it, after all.

“YAKU-SAN!” a loud voice boomed, startling Morisuke out of his thoughts. Despite his mild surprise, he didn’t turn around. He didn’t need to. A large body crashed into his back and strong arms engulfed him into a backwards hug.

“Hey, Tora,” Morisuke grunted, turning in his seat to face his client. Lev stood a little ways away, watching with a perplexed smile. “Hello, Lev.” Both of his clients wore their uniforms, with the only difference between them being that Tora’s had sleeves and gloves, while Lev had neither. A white beaded bracelet was on Lev’s wrist.

Tora finally released Morisuke and he hopped over the back of the bench to sit next to him. “So why’re you comin’ with us, anyway?” Tora frowned in a way that he probably thought was menacing. “You don’t trust me to watch out for that one?” he jerked his thumb towards Lev, who leaned against a pole next to the bench.

Morisuke wasn’t sure if Tora was actually offended, so he just shook his head with a slight grimace. “I’m not here to watch the beanpole,” Lev squacked slightly in protest, pushing away from the pole, but Morisuke carried on. “We don’t have an exact location on the target.”

Tora’s face cleared into one of understanding. “Ohh, I see. Will you be heading back right after or will you help us catch him?” Now that Tora’s competence had been reassured, he grinned easily at the thought. He was always absurdly excited whenever he saw Morisuke using his abilities.

Lev tilted his head in question. “Wait, what will Yaku-san be doing?” Lev had tried asking about Morisuke’s powers before--giving the kid his number was definitely a mistake--and while it was socially acceptable to do so, Morisuke had denied him an answer each time. Lev was his client and Morisuke always at least  _ tried  _ to maintain professional airs. Unfortunately for Morisuke, he seemed to always be assigned the nosy types.

Tora opened his mouth to respond--no doubt to exaggerate Morisuke’s skill--but Morisuke spoke first. “I’ll be finding him. Our train is here,” he said pointedly and Tora looked disappointed that he couldn’t brag about his manager.

Morisuke stood first, brushing off his dark pants and stalked towards the white and green train that looked far too polished and sleek.  _ Pretentious _ , Morisuke thought.

Despite his distaste for Aoba Johsai’s design choices, Morisuke had to admit that it was the best in the business. Not only was it meticulously cleanly--it was the only transportation Sakusa ever used, which was the highest compliment Morisuke could give--but it was fast. Tora had been able to inaccurately recreate only one of his fights to an enraptured Lev before they reached Tokyo.

As they stepped off into the station, Lev stared at the train with mild awe. “I can’t believe we’re already here!”

Tora bellowed out a laugh that received multiple dirty looks from the rich bastards in the station. Undoubtedly used to being on the receiving end of such glares, neither Lev or Tora gave them a second glance, but Morisuke withheld a grimace.

“That must have been your first time riding a Seijoh train, eh?”

The dark looks increased. Seijoh was a common nickname for the Aoba Johsai, but those who could actually afford to use it hardly appreciated the sentiment behind it. Morisuke walked faster to escape their eyes.

“The trains’re all real nice,” Tora continued, loud as ever. “But the people on them can be real fuckin-

Unbidden, Morisuke’s leg shot out and caught Tora’s, causing the man to stumble with an affronted yelp. “Shut  _ up _ ,” he hissed. His skin was crawling.

Tora, however, just laughed again as he regained his footing. Morisuke felt the beginnings of a headache.

“Lev,” Morisuke began. Lev poked his head forward to fix Morisuke with those hyper-focused eyes, “Has Ukai-san introduced you to the grid yet?”

He shook his head vigorously enough that his silver hair fell into his face. “No, Yaku-san!”

Leading them out of the station and into the glass elevator, Morisuke sighed. “Of course he didn’t. Alright, so-” he cut off his explanation when he saw that Lev was fully turned away from him.

Oh, right. Lev hadn’t seen this view yet.

Seijoh trains were built fairly recently, so instead of the train being underground like most, the tracks were built above the city, about three stories tall. While Lev must have ridden a similar elevator back in Gunma, it had nothing on view of Tokyo. Tora laughed at the awe on Lev’s face, but Morisuke just sighed, leaned against the glass, and waited. He didn’t want to push new information onto the kid when he was distracted.

Lev’s attention didn’t waver from the outside until they had reached the ground, at which point it returned to Morisuke as if there had been no interruption. Now that they were outside, Morisuke felt the familiar tug of the winds vying for his attention, but it was easy to ignore.

“Nekoma has a grid map of all of Japan. It’s universal for all of their divisions, so it’s useful for communication and shit,” Morisuke explained as they weaved their way through the street. Tora had gotten lost in the crowd at some point, but he knew where their destination was, so Morisuke didn’t worry. If the worst came to worst, Morisuke would find him too. “There’s a copy in the folder I gave you last week, but if you-” Morisuke grunted as someone pushed passed him, “if you need a new one, let me know.”

Lev’s face twisted thoughtfully towards the sky. Morisuke seized his arm and yanked him back so he didn’t wander into the street before it was clear, but Lev didn’t react to the touch. “I think I remember seeing it?” It was phrased more as a question than a statement.

The light switched, so they continued walking. “We’re going to be travelling based on that grid. You’re going to need it memorized eventually,” although it wouldn’t need much of an effort on Lev’s part; both Tora and Saeko had it memorized in only a month or so, “but for today, just try to familiarize yourself with it. Tora will have a copy.”

They turned the corner to stand in front of some restaurant Morisuke didn’t care about to find Tora waiting for them. He greeted them enthusiastically, but Morisuke closed his eyes and ignored him.

He was gearing himself up. It had been a few months since he’d used his abilities to this extent, but the wind was blowing steadily, like he knew it would be. It had taken two days for it to be enough for Morisuke’s purposes, but it had given him plenty of time to prepare mentally. He was going to have to feel through the winds manually as he walked through Tokyo, which meant Morisuke would have to lower most of his mental walls. Distantly, Morisuke was aware of Tora excitedly whispering something to Lev--probably hyping up Morisuke’s abilities--but he disregarded it.

One by one, he pushed down the mental walls that kept Morisuke from being hypersensitive to the winds. Then he snapped his eyes open and began searching for Futakuchi Kenji.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Why is Komori always dead in my fics? I love him, I swear  
> Also, psst I'm planning a Sakusa and Terushima centric fic in this universe. I'm also planning a UshiTen centric fic in the universe (but I won't be uploading that until this is finished bc spoilers)


	4. Chapter Four

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've been going through some bad shit, so this took longer than I wanted. Sorry.  
> Also, I wanna reiterate that I don't know shit about Japan. So if the address in here doesn't make sense.. Sorry? I just googled apartments in Tokyo lmao

Morisuke was only vaguely aware of the streets of Tokyo as he walked next to Tora and Lev. He had a limited range that fluctuated based on the wind that day--the damned things were fickle as all hell--so he couldn’t simply scan the entirety of east Tokyo at once. He’d have to walk until he could sense wind that had touched Futakuchi. However, the wind did seem less temperamental than usual that day, so Morisuke hoped he would at least locate the guy before lunch.

It was in times like this that Morisuke could understand Kenma’s sensory overload. Once all of his mental walls had been removed, the wind was  _ screaming  _ at him, telling him everything they thought was important (it rarely was). The wind wasn’t a single, coherent hivemind either. Certain sections were, certainly, but stray, independent winds--Morisuke called them strands--carried their own thoughts. The winds were freespirits; it was far too common for pieces to grow discontent with the families, or collections of strands, that they were flying with and break away. As it was, Morisuke had almost a hundred different voices eager to communicate whatever bullshit they thought he would care about.

_ New tall square…! Square has the eating! _

__ _ Rude family travel the wrong way. _

__ _ Travel with me, Morisuke! _

__ _ Morisuke, we joined new family! _

__ _ Too many walking fleshes here... _

__ Morisuke had met other wind manipulators, and not all of them could hear the wind. For some of them, their abilities were exclusively control. But the winds seemed to take quite a liking to Morisuke--except this one wind family that stayed near Chugoku, the bastards--and preferred communication over the mutual indifference that some other manipulators had. Morisuke wasn’t sure as to why this difference was--although he was sure he could Google it if he really cared--and sometimes he envied those who couldn’t hear the wind. As grating as the influx of information was, though, this one-sided affection was useful in scenarios like these.

_ Winds, _ Morisuke thought, mentally pushing the words out through his outstretched fingertips,  _ I am looking for someone. _

__ Morisuke hadn’t always been able talk back to the winds either. As a child, he was constantly overwhelmed by the amount of voices the winds carried, and was quickly enrolled in classes for those who needed additional assistance in controlling their abilities. Those classes, in addition to showing him how to construct his mental barriers to avoid the constant overflow, also taught how to speak back.

Instead of describing Futakuchi Kenji verbally, Morisuke pushed a mental image of the man. The winds generally thought in concepts and only used words to communicate with wind manipulators, so an image of Morisuke’s target would be understood easier than anything else.

The winds also don’t perceive color, so Morisuke didn’t focus on that. Instead, he projected the way he imaged his hair would feel, his height, how sturdy his form was. Most of it was conjecture, but he knew it would be enough. The winds liked him and would spread the word outward until Morisuke would catch a strand or family that had located Futakuchi.

As soon as the thoughts left his fingers, the wind began shouting louder. Most of it was images--assorted strands recalling seeing Futakuchi travelling to ‘squares,’ as they called buildings. Every strand and family was reaching out to their neighbors to alert them that their Morisuke needed their help.

That done, Morisuke allowed a portion of his attention to return to what was happening around him. Tora was dragging him along by the arm since Morisuke couldn’t waste his attention of remembering where to turn, and talking. Loudly.

“Once, he saw vigilantes on a job on his way to work, and he stopped the criminal from getting away. She was some asshole speedster, and Yaku-san created a wholeass wall out of the wind! It was so badass!”

Morisuke rolled his eyes, both at the description and at the admiring noises Lev was cooing. Tora hadn’t  _ been  _ there that day. And Morisuke hadn’t made a wall, he just had the winds near her fight against her motion. The criminal hadn’t even come to a complete stop; she had just slowed down enough that Akane could catch her.

“So is Yaku-san going to help us catch.. Fuck-a... Futa… whatever his name is?” Lev asked eagerly.

“Nah, I don’t think so.” Morisuke could hear the pout in Tora’s voice. “He doesn’t even do  _ this  _ very much. I’ve never seen ‘im do a legit arrest. Says Nekoma’ll just try to recruit him as a vig.”

“Aww!”  _ Christ, Tora has Lev pouting about this now, too? _

__ Morisuke felt a mental nudge, so he turned his attention back to the winds scrabbling for his attention. He couldn’t suppress a heavy shudder as countless recollections of Futakuchi Kenji invaded his mind at once. Most of them seemed to surround a certain apartment complex nearby, however, so after a few minutes more of digging, Morisuke thanked the winds and set about reconstructing his mental walls. 

“Kajicho, Chiyoda-ku,” Morisuke said with difficulty. Even with most of his walls back up, flashes of Futakuchi Kenji from the past month still played behind his eyes. “Apartment 2-7-5.”

Tora let out a little whoop. “Let’s go kick some ass, then!”

By the time they reached the apartment, Morisuke had gotten back to his bearings. He was still bone-deep exhausted, but he had at least pulled out his phone to access Nekoma’s records. Some vigilante companies didn’t have records as detailed as Nekoma’s, particularly in other countries, but due to Nekoma’s positive reputation, most companies complied and gave them general information. This apartment complex, however, did not seem to be one of them. It was probably the reason Futakuchi stayed here.

“That was incredible, Yaku-san! You were just standing there and then suddenly  _ bam _ , your eyes were open and the wind started blowing at you and your hands were doing this-” Lev wiggled his fingers excitedly, “-this thing, and we were walking for awhile and you looked so  _ focused!  _ And then ten minutes later, you just knew where he was!”

Morisuke sighed and stabbed his finger at the button to call the elevator. Tora boomed out a laugh.

“That’s our Yaku-san!” he declared, smacking Morisuke’s back hard enough to send his stumbling.

“ _ Your Yaku-san _ ,” Morisuke huffed mockingly, “now has a broken back.”

Tora just grinned and stepped into the elevator. “Nah, you’re tougher than that!” Then he turned towards Lev, who was eyeing Morisuke with mild worry. “Lev, do ya’ care how we catch this guy?”

Closing his eyes, Morisuke leaned against the side of the elevator and tuned out their conversation.  _ God _ , he was tired. Whenever Morisuke collapsed all of his mental walls, the winds found ways to worm into his consciousness and implant thoughts and images, even if Morisuke wasn’t consciously attempting communication. Assorted images of new strands joining their family, places where new “squares” being built, people they thought felt odd, squabbles they had with other families or strands… Anything the wind decided to leave him was there, clamoring for Morisuke’s attention. He’d have to sort through all of the thoughts soon, he knew, otherwise they would come to the forefront of his mind at inopportune moments.

All too soon, the elevator doors parted and Tora and Lev practically burst out of it in excitement. Morisuke trailed behind, albeit slower and with a dark glare on his face. The apartment door wasn’t far down the hall, but Morisuke didn’t go to it. Instead, he sat on his heels, his back to the wall next to the elevator, and waited. He didn’t have to energy to micromanage, but if he followed the two boisterous vigilantes, he knew that he would anyway.

Disregarding the clamor from the hall, Morisuke called the closest CS office.

“Ennoshita Chikara from the Nekoma’s Tokyo Civilian Security,” a low voice droned.

“Hello, Ennoshita-san, this is Yaku Morisuke. We spoke yesterday about my clients arresting Futakuchi Kenji.” Morisuke glared at the doorknob across the hall like it personally offended him. He hated phone calls. He was too tired for this bullshit.

“Ah, yes. Have you located him?” Ennoshita’s voice, while professional, still seemed rather bored. Morisuke liked him.

Casting a glance at Futakuchi’s ajar door, Morisuke answered, “Yes. We’ll need a car at the apartment building in Kajicho, Chiyoda-ku.” The CS cars were exclusively used for arrest, not for vigilantes anymore. When on a job, vigilantes rode Aoba Johsai. They were dramatic like that.

Glass shattered from Futakuchi’s doorway and a few heads poked out of other apartments to tentatively investigate. Morisuke hoped Futakuchi didn’t have insurance.

“Narita will have a car waiting for you within five minutes.”

Only five minutes? Normally it was longer.

“Thank you.”

Morisuke had scarcely hung up before people emerged from the apartment room. Tora looked boisterous as usual, blond mohawk in it’s typical disarray, and Lev looked mildly ruffled. Futakuchi Kenji, however looked like hell, and Morisuke’s eyes widened.

“The fuck’d you do?”

He was no stranger to violence and injuries, but this was ridiculous. Futakuchi had a broken nose, bruised eye, cut jaw, and his left hand was bent at a strange angle. The two vigilantes were practically dragging the guy. Morisuke suspected there was a head injury that had knocked Futakuchi unconscious.

Lev grinned sheepishly, but it was Tora who answered. “Ah, it’s fine! Lev got a little carried away, but we all do on our first job.”

Morisuke had to give him that. Tora had almost given a woman a concussion on his first arrest. Still… “Taketora, you’re supposed to  _ stop  _ that from happening,” he sighed as he stood and tucked his phone into the inside pocket of his jacket. He used his inside pocket whenever he could; he could remember all too clearly what it was like to be pocketless from back when he presented as female. His inside pocket was his favorite thing in the world, honestly.

Tora made a face that was reminiscent of a put-out toddler. Morisuke decided to ignore him in favor of returning into the elevator. Lev scrambled in after him eagerly, temporarily forgetting that he was partially carrying someone else. There was a mild scramble from the two vigilantes to keep the unconscious man from falling.

Morisuke raised his eyes in despair.

Once Futakuchi was secure and the elevator was on its way to the ground floor, Lev beamed at Morisuke, bouncing lightly on his heels. “Yaku-san, how did I do?”

Morisuke squinted at him. “I don’t know,” he said slowly. “I wasn’t there.”

“But we caught him!” Lev hefted the unconscious brunette higher, as if to draw Morisuke’s attention to him.

“Congratulations,” Morisuke grumbled, closing his eyes again. “You did the bare minimum required.”

Morisuke heard a low thump, probably from Tora hitting Lev’s back. “Don’t listen to him; he’s just grumpy. You did great!”

Morisuke could almost  _ feel  _ Lev perk up. “Thank you, Yamamoto-senpai!”

Tora cackled. Morisuke cracked open his eyes to shoot Lev a questioning look.

“Yaku-san, you hear that? He called me senpai!”

Morisuke exhaled heavily. “Tanaka will be jealous.”

Another cackle. How does Tora even laugh that much?

“I’d call you senpai, too, Yaku-san, but I think I’d feel weird about it.”

“And why is that?” Morisuke asked tiredly, more to humor him than out of any sort of curiosity.

“It’d be weird to call someone so small my senpai!”

Suddenly, Morisuke wasn’t so tired. Levelling Lev with a steady glower, Morisuke took a slow, measured step towards the Russian. Lev shifted in slight unease, but Morisuke was too drained to be proud.

“I will skin you alive and use your pale ass as  _ wallpaper _ .”

Lev swallowed hard. Tora shook his head in despairing sympathy. The elevator opened.

As Morisuke stalked out, he shook his head in irritation. Stupid tall Russians and their disrespectful bullshit. Excessively beating up an assassin, probably destroying some property, and then insulting the guy who has the power to get him fired or destroy his public image or send him to jail, or all of the above. Sure, Tora liked to tease Morisuke, but he, at least, had known Morisuke long enough to know that he would never be petty enough to fire anyone. But Lev didn’t know Morisuke for shit. What kind of moron  _ was  _ this kid?

Morisuke ran on autopilot as Futakuchi was deposited into the car and as he and his loud shithead companions rode the train back to Gunma. Vaguely, he was aware of Tora and Lev’s banter, but aside from half-hearted threats, he made no effort to engage in the world around him.

He was so tired.

Morisuke didn’t particularly mind his abilities. There were a lot of scientific reasons for why everyone had them--something about strings?--but he never cared enough to look into it. His abilities just  _ were _ . And most of the time, he didn’t become this drained. Manipulating and moving the wind was significantly easier than communicating with them. So he didn’t really mind.

But he hated  _ this _ . He was listening to Lev complain about his new apartment when the feeling of the wind flowing through a child’s hair plastered itself to the forefront of Morisuke’s mind. The wind in question wasn’t even currently trying to talk to Morisuke--they couldn’t with his walls up, anyway--it was just something the wind had telepathically told him previously, but that Morisuke hadn’t processed.

There were dozens of things like this in Morisuke’s head, he knew. There always were. And they would persistently come back and push to being addressed over and over again until Morisuke let himself experience it. He could push them away, but he had learned from his high school years that avoidance would only increase how vivid the thoughts were. After two full years of insistent intrusive thoughts surrounding a murder that the wind had witnessed, Morisuke resolved to processing the information from the wind as quickly as possible.

So once Morisuke was safely in his dark studio apartment, he collapsed onto his futon and let the thoughts come.

A couple screaming loud enough for the wind to feel it outside the house.

Children playing with toy guns.

A wind-manipulating child who liked using the wind to prank people. This same child appears multiple times; three strands found it hilarious, but two families found it inconvenient.

A man with an afro.

A non-lethal shooting behind a shoe store.

Teens playing music loud enough that the winds feel the tickling sensation of noise stronger than they’re used to.

And it kept coming. Morisuke relived each of these scenes and more, start to finish, from the winds’ perspective. It was disorienting, to say the least. The wind perceived things so differently from people and Morisuke always felt mildly sick after having to see things like they did for long periods of time. Humans were grounded, held down by bodies and gravity, but wind was constantly wiggling to adapt to its surroundings with no boundaries or effort. Feeling that second-hand movement was nauseating.

Eventually though, Morisuke had sorted through them all. They could very well still appear at inopportune moments, but at least this way Morisuke had seen them all. He wouldn’t be disconcerted by them anymore.

With a low groan, Morisuke pushed himself upright and clumsily extracted his phone from his jacket. He would sleep soon, but he needed to text Kuroo first. They were obnoxious as fuck, but they had intrusive thoughts and flashbacks and understood. They would tell Morisuke on their bad PTSD days and Morisuke would tell them when the wind showed him something he couldn’t handle.

Wincing at the bright glow of his phone screen, Morisuke quickly typed a brief  _ not bad. gonna sleep  _ to Kuroo. Before he could turn off the screen, he noticed that he had a message from Lev. Sighing heavily, he opened it.  _ I swear to god, if there’s a legality issue I have to fix, I will beat his bitchass all the way back to Russia. _

**Haiba Lev** _ [1:24] _

yamamoto-senpai said the wind helps u see things u cant see w ur eyes!!!

sounds like smth drugs would do tbh

Morisuke squeezed his eyes shut. Of course it wouldn’t be about work. When had Lev ever texted him about work? His phone gave another soft  _ ding  _ and, with a sigh that bordered on a resigned whimper, Morisuke opened his eyes.

**Haiba Lev** _[1:32]_

can you use it 4 voiuresm??

**voyeurism lmao

Morisuke would never be petty enough to fire anyone. But that didn’t mean he couldn’t dream.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm really uncertain about the wind thing? I struggled with writing it a lot, so hopefully it made some semblance of sense


End file.
